Embers
by FashionablyLatte
Summary: Even the mightiest fall one day...and fall hard they do indeed. What is the difference between the great and the greatest? Only the greatest ever recover from the most devastating of blows. Sort of my own take on Red from Soulsilver/Heartgold...I have possible ideas for an expanded story if enough people seem to like this little thing I came up with. Hope you enjoy!


Cold flakes drifted past the window as he wiped away the frosty residue from his exhale. He sighed, staring out at the bleak landscape from the tattered armchair, contemplating the drastic changes wrought throughout the region that had brought him to this dreary log cabin atop Mt. Silver. Where had things gone wrong? Why was he, once a champion, idol to many, a leader to all, here, living a solitary life in the most Arceus-forsaken place on the planet? Woe, oh how hard the mighty had fallen! At the start of his exile, he had raged, railed against the injustices of the world, alternating between screaming at the heavens and simply curling up in a defeated ball and sobbing. Most of all, though, he grieved for all those that he left behind. Now, however, he had grown into a weary acceptance of the way things were, submitting to the dictates of fate. He let out another tired sigh, taking off his battered iconic Pokemon league cap, running his hands back through messy raven locks that were longer than ever. He had a youthful face still, albeit somewhat weather-beaten and covered with a coarse poorly trimmed beard that only revealed his nose and tired, defeated eyes. The eyes that _she_ had loved; the ones that used to be a rich dark chocolate, now reduced to a shadow of their former glory. Then again, he had suffered the same fate too, hadn't he? It was only fitting that what had once displayed his fiery and courageous spirit continued to reflect his very soul, even when the passionate flame that used to burn inside him was extinguished. Nothing but a few weakly glowing embers remained.

As the already gray sky slowly darkened until it was black, he continued to sit in front of the small, dirty window in total silence, the only sound in the room coming from the crackling fireplace behind him. It burned brightly, almost mocking his somber mood with its jolly dancing flames. At this moment, however, the monotony was interrupted by a familiar pattering of small paws on the stone floor. He allowed a weak smile to appear on his face as a golden ball of fur nosed its way under his arm and into his field of vision. He offered a gentle rub behind the pointed black and yellow ears that was met with a delighted "~Chaaa!". This was his _other_ partner, the one constant in his life since the mere age of ten. Pokemon training had always played a central role in his life, even when it had to grudgingly make room for his family later on. When he had left, he had taken his strongest team with him, leaving the rest in the capable care of those he still trusted. He supposed that in a way it was selfish of him to bring his team with him; they were not the ones forced to leave. They wouldn't have had it any other way, though. His team would die for him, since he had almost done the same for them many times over. Although it was a burden to take care of them so far away from civilization, he was infinitely grateful for their presence: they occupied his time and kept him sane as well. For a few moments, he sat there, stroking the surprisingly soft fur of his oldest ally, reflecting on the nature of trainer-Pokemon relationships.

Pokemon were simple. He recalled one of Professor Oak's time honored maxims: There is no such thing as a naturally evil Pokemon. He supposed it was true; Pokemon were loyal to a fault if you treated them well; Pokemon judged you by your character not your looks; Pokemon didn't _betray_ you. No, humans were the true cause of all the calamities of the world. Humans were what caused his downfall. Sure, he was followed and even worshiped by multitudes, but few _knew_ him, and even fewer actually loved him for who he truly was. When threatened and faced with difficulty, the fickle public easily turned away from him, _he_ who had laid down so much for the greater good, _he_ who had led them to greatness! But the Pokemon had always seen him for who he was. _They_ had always loved him; _they_ never strayed from their unerring loyalty to him. Pokemon had and always would keep his world spinning, even when all else turned against him. _They_ kept him alive when all his other pillars of trust collapsed; _they_ were the only reason he had not simply laid down in the bitter cold of Mt. Silver and relinquished his place in the cruel world. No, he would not give in, as long as there was a sliver of hope in the world. And so the few embers, buried in the lukewarm ashes of the ruins of a once mighty persona, remained dormant, waiting for the right moment to flare into life once more.

* * *

Thanks for bearing with me on my first uploaded story! Hope it wasn't too cringe worthy. This was sort of a peek into an imagined AU I had based on the presence of Trainer Red at the top of Mt. Silver in Soulsilver/Heartgold. I may expand on this story if (somehow) people are actually interested in giving me a shot at writing more hehe... anyways, any feedback is greatly appreciated (even flames lol), always looking to make my writing a little less atrocious. Pander out :)


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